Around here, Gasoline Alley is a bunch of tables crammed with toolboxes and solder irons, the drag strip is a grooved track wedged belly-high into a basement wall, and fencing is an old pillow the size of a catcher’s mitt.

And down the 55-foot-long drag strip the tiny cars go, here a ’59 Cadillac, there a ’57 Chevy, some of the toy vehicles so geared up they hit speeds of 40, 50, and, yes, even 60 mph.